


Lessons Learned

by marimojar



Category: One Piece
Genre: Bottom Roronoa Zoro, Dubious Consent, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Zoro is a Brat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:53:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27634372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marimojar/pseuds/marimojar
Summary: “Break me,” he begged. A vocal declaration that he was relinquishing his control, leaving himself entirely in the other man’s hands.The swordsmaster grinned in reply, though Zoro could not see him doing so. “You’ve already been broken.”
Relationships: Dracule Mihawk/Roronoa Zoro
Comments: 9
Kudos: 129





	Lessons Learned

**Author's Note:**

> hi sexies :)
> 
> so this is actually the first non ironic fic that i’m posting on this account (at least during my time in the one piece fandom, since beforehand i was using this account to write some jjba fics that have long since been deleted). if you look at my previous fics you’ll notice that they’re all crack fics, mostly because, well… whenever i try to write actual fics i always end up hating them afterwards or even during the middle of me writing them and i impulsively delete them uh haha.
> 
> but i really do want to work past this bad habit of mine so for starters i’ll just be writing some shameless smut fics to get into the swing of things then i Might work on some Actual stories later. hopefully you enjoy this fic, i wanted to write a mizo fic bc i think the character dynamic between them is interesting and bababooey bababooey yeah just kidding. i’m just a horny zoro kinnie who wants to get railed by mihawk for whatever reason and there was a lack of smut fics so i took things into my own hands.

Though Zoro had fought this battle many times, it always ended the same way: his body sent pummeling down to the ground, cherished blades flying from his grasp. 

Moments ago, he was certain he was winning. Though this was merely part of his training, he had lost himself entirely in the battle. His heart was fully ignited with flames of bloodlust, flames that ripped through every cell of his body. With each movement, each clash of sword against sword, tantalizing visions of the other man’s defeat danced in his head. Visions of spilling his blood, feeling it permeate his very soul. With each swing, he felt he and his blades were truly connected as one. Their cries for blood harmonized with his own, focus honed in on nothing else but bringing this opponent to defeat.

But like many times before, one single mistake was all it took for those flames to be extinguished. A quick swing from the other man’s blade, and the only blood spilled in that battle was Zoro’s own. His back hit the unforgiving ground beneath him, forcing the air out of his lungs upon impact. He had lost, that much was apparent, and he had left not a single scratch on the other man to show for it.

The sting of his wounds throbbed ceaselessly, blood pooling underneath his shirt. As if to assess the damage, he pressed a hand to the slashes riddling his abdomen. The thick liquid seeped through the fabric in a steady flow, coating his palm in a deep red. He found himself oddly transfixed on the sight, watching droplets of blood run down his wrist with eyes that were struggling to keep themselves open. The last thing he saw before they finally fluttered shut was Mihawk, standing over his collapsed body as he put away his own blade.

* * *

Zoro’s mind returned to consciousness sluggishly: just how long he’d slipped out of it was still uncertain. His body continued to ache, though now out of numbness rather than pain. As his limbs sprawled out, he found soft bedding beneath them rather than cold rubble: an indication that he had been whisked away from the place of his defeat, once again safely indoors. 

The time spent healing after a battle was the time most humiliating for Zoro. It always had been, but during his time on Kuraigana Island it was uniquely so. Here, the man who caused his wounds was also the very man who ensured they were tended to. This man who was his greatest opponent, the one thing keeping him from achieving his lifelong goals. Mihawk had already left a slash across his chest; now he was leaving one across his pride.

At the very least, he could be left to rest in his room… or so he had thought. When his eyes fluttered themselves open, he realized that he was not alone. There at the foot of his bed, sitting perpendicular to him, was that very nemesis of his. The sight of the man alone was already enough to make every muscle in his body stiffen in apprehension, but his presence _here_ of all places made him bear a particularly imposing aura.

Mihawk craned his head to face him, giving the boy a mere quick glance before turning back again. “You’re awake,” he stated simply. “Perona went to bed early, so I had to tend to your wounds myself.”

Zoro gave a simple nod in reply, though his internal thoughts were filled with immense unrest. The realization that Mihawk himself was the one actually tending to him was… unsettling, to put it lightly. Though he felt awful that the ghost girl had to patch him up so often, it was far less discomforting than if it were to be done by him. To be cared for by the very man who inflicted his wounds in the first place… it was something that made him feel abhorrently ill.

Then there was the fact that he was right here, in his room, assumedly having kept an eye on him this entire time. That alone was something that went beyond simple caretaking, into the realm of borderline coddling. But for the time being, he’d put those feelings of anxiety aside. The sooner he could get Mihawk out of his hair, the better. 

“How long was I out?” he questioned, the usual question he asked.

“Not very long,” Mihawk responded, the usual vague reply. 

“And you’ve been… keeping watch this whole time?” Zoro shifted himself up into a sitting position, mindful of the bandages he now noticed tightly bound around his waist.

“Correct,” he confirmed. “Your injuries are not severe, but you’ve lost a substantial amount of blood.” Though his voice remained as stoic as ever, there was discernible sympathy behind his words. Sympathy that always made Zoro’s skin crawl, sympathy that wasn’t supposed to be coming from his adversary. 

“You _really_ don’t have to watch over me, like I’m some sort of injured animal,” Zoro chided. “I don’t need your pity.”

“I chose to do so of my own volition,” he replied dully. “I do not pity you.” His eyes focused themselves on the clouds outside the large window in the room, clearly paying the younger swordsman no further heed. Though Zoro felt unnerved by Mihawk’s continued occupancy of his room, the thought of telling him to leave was… uncomfortable, to put it lightly. He still wanted to distance himself from him, though, and so he shimmied his way off the bed to make his exit. Right as he headed to the door, he was stopped dead in his tracks by the sound of a voice speaking to him.

“I’m sure you’re going to run off now to meditate, stubborn mule that you are,” Mihawk observed, still faced away from the man. “But before you do so, I have a proposition.”

Zoro lifted a confused eyebrow, hesitantly sitting himself back down on the mattress. He wondered if he should dare even ask what his mentor had in mind, as it was so uncharacteristic of him to request something of him like this. Alas, his curiosity had already been piqued, and so he threw caution to the wind. “What would that be?” he questioned.

“Perhaps,” he raised, “We could take this moment of solitude as an opportunity, to finally resolve this... Tension between us.”

Though he still did not quite understand what Mihawk was referring to, Zoro felt his heart already stiffening in apprehension. Somehow, he had a bad feeling about this. “Tension…?”

Mihawk turned to face the younger swordsman, a devilish gleam visible in his eyes before he made his way to the other side of the bed. Zoro’s body froze with unease as his mentor approached him, feeling like frail prey cornered by a hungry predator. It was a sense of vulnerability he wasn’t used to feeling, and wasn’t quite sure why he was feeling it now. 

“Don’t play coy, Roronoa,” Mihawk whispered, a hand brushing against the boy’s face. “Surely, you don’t think I haven’t noticed already.” Zoro’s eyes widened, completely unsettled by this gentle tone of his, this soft touch caressing his cheek. This wasn’t something this emotionless rival of his would ever do, no matter how sickeningly consoling he was at times. This shouldn’t be happening. What even _was_ happening?

“What are you-” before he could sputter out the rest of his sentence, Zoro found himself pulled into a kiss. His eyes were blown wide open, mind reeling at the touch, thoughts trying to convince him that this wasn’t _actually_ happening to him right now… and suddenly, it came to him exactly what “tension” Mihawk had been referring to. 

An odd tension Zoro had been developing towards this unusual mentor of his, ever since he found himself stranded on this desolate land. A tension born from a mix of sexual frustration and isolation getting to his young head, clouding his judgement immensely. A tension that he would never admit to, that he _couldn’t_ admit to, that he didn’t even want to admit to himself. And yet, that very foe had already picked up on it, observant bastard that he was. 

His mind battled with itself, conscious mind clashing against subconscious desires, making him unsure of what he really wanted. Well, he _knew_ what he wanted, but now that it was happening he didn’t know if he should let himself have it. He couldn’t tell if this was a test of his strength, if his mentor was merely antagonizing him. Still, against his own stubborn will he found himself leaning into the man’s touch-- a gesture that was indicative in and of itself of his most deep rooted desires. All too soon the kiss was broken, leaving his mind still barely processing what had just happened. 

“I take it you’re accepting my proposition,” Mihawk remarked.

Before Zoro could even reply, his back hit the mattress, rough hands pinning him there by his wrists and two legs straddling his hips. His breath hitched in his throat, eyes looking up nervously at the other man, who looked back down at him with a dark hunger. The sound of his own heartbeat pounded through his eardrums, drowning out any possibility for rational thought. All that was left in his mind was a slurry of emotions: unease, uncertainty, and most oddly a strong exhilaration. Adrenaline was pumping through his every vein, adrenaline he seldom felt outside of battle, much less when he was pinned by the enemy like this. 

Though his head was still swimming, he had to get a grip, had to come to his senses somehow. Despite all else, his ego wouldn’t allow him to submit to this foe. No matter how much he wanted this, how he ached to have that primal hunger of his satiated, he would not allow himself to show it. He could not let his opponent catch him off guard under any circumstance, especially not something like _this_. His eyes forced themselves into a fierce glare, demonstrating his lack of fear, his self restraint. Yanking a hand free from Mihawk’s grasp, he gripped at the man’s shirt collar, using enough force to almost rip the fabric.

“If this is what you have in mind, you’d better make it worth my while,” Zoro snarled, doing his best to sound intimidating. “Don’t assume you can just have your way with me, like I’m some inexperienced schoolboy.”

The swordsmaster’s lips curled into a wild smirk, leaning in impossibly close to Zoro until they were mere inches apart. “Rest assured,” he murmured into his ear, voice an unusually gentle purr. “Once I’m through with you, you’ll wish you had swallowed your pride.”

Using his free hand, he lifted his fingers up to his pupil’s chin, tilting it curiously. Zoro’s lips parted with anticipation, though he still maintained that fierce gaze. Mihawk traced his thumb gently over his bottom lip, taking in the sight before once again meeting his lips with his own. Zoro’s eyes rolled back against his will at the feeling, then fluttered closed entirely, a soft groan reverberating through his throat. His grip on the man’s shirt collar loosened, fingers instead roaming to grab at scruffy hair. Mihawk was quick to return the favor, a hand gripping tightly at bundles of fluffy green locks. 

Zoro was still determined to keep up that stubborn defiance of his, though; a yanking of hair here, a nibbling of lips there, whatever he could do in this position to exhibit some form of willpower. But as his rival pressed even closer, gripped even tighter, he could feel his resolve ebbing and flowing through waves of euphoria. Each gasp for air, each clash of lips, each warm breath tingling his skin, he was taking in more and more of the man’s powerful energy, to the point where it felt overpowering. It made him want to indulge in this pleasure, wanting to savor the feeling of perfectly trimmed stubble brushing his cheek, of his tongue lapping hungrily at a warm, sinful mouth. But he couldn’t give in too soon, and he knew that, so he held onto that determination of his with a tight grip.

The grip Mihawk still had around a pinned wrist grew slack, fingers instead opting to wrap around the boy’s throat. A guttural groan reverberated under his fingertips, though whether out of approval or annoyance was uncertain. Zoro was quick to demonstrate some form of insubordination, though, both hands now tugging aggressively at his mentor’s hair in irritation.

Seeking to further get under his haughty disciple’s skin, Mihawk pressed his hips deeper into Zoro’s own, taking immense pleasure in the depraved growls coming from the boy as a result. Zoro rocked his hips upwards, an attempt to create some sort of friction, only for Mihawk to force him down even further into the bed in a disciplinary measure. Zoro’s hands were sent in a frenzy, releasing from their grip on his hair and opting to grab and claw at his back in sheer annoyance. Mihawk broke free from the kiss, amused by the sight of his eyes fluttering open in a daze.

“You’re rather eager,” he observed. “But you’d be best to understand who’s in control here.” 

“Don't assume you have the upper hand, Hawk Eyes,” Zoro growled, indignation written on his face. “You might’ve caught me off guard at first, but I won’t let it happen again.”

“I was unaware that you consider this a duel,” Mihawk remarked. “But I suppose with that cocky attitude of yours, it can’t be helped.” Moving himself off the younger swordsman’s body, he sat himself on the edge of the mattress, Zoro giving him a confused look in response.

“Come here,” he ordered. “Let’s see if you can use your mouth for something other than snippy remarks.

Zoro’s face turned flush at the lewd connotation of his words, only to turn even more so in annoyance. “Tch, have you forgotten the sword technique I use?” he scoffed, partly mere banter, partly sore pride.

“Quite the opposite,” Mihawk corrected. “Rather, I’m hoping your skill in this field is not as lacking as your skill in battle.”

The younger swordsman glared at him with borderline murderous intent. Though part of him wanted to refuse his foe’s demands out of pure spite, he recognized a challenge when he saw one. He was determined to knock this high and mighty opponent down a peg, using that very mouth of his.

Still maintaining that cutthroat scowl of his, Zoro lowered himself off the mattress, knees resting on a cold stone floor as he shifted himself to face the other man. Though he hadn’t done this in awhile, he figured if he just did what he usually did with his partners, that’d be good enough. Still, the thought of trying to pleasure such a cold-blooded man like Mihawk was somewhat intimidating… but he knew he couldn’t allow himself to be intimidated.

Moving himself in closer, he pressed his face deep in between splayed legs, lingering there a bit before mouthing hungrily on the fabric. His nose mashed itself against the man’s groin, inhaling the thick scent with each breath, exhaling warm breaths onto the growing length beneath him. He pressed his tongue firmly against the cloth, coating it with his saliva, running it across the shaft slowly but surely under his touch. He truly was a sight to behold: eyes aflame with a raging desire, face nuzzling desperately against the target of his lustful ministrations. Mihawk ran a hand through the boy’s hair encouragingly, making him snarl at the touch only to soon grow lax beneath it. 

Taking the pant zipper into his teeth, Zoro pulled it down, finally freeing his prize from its fabric confine. He found himself briefly entranced by the sight of it; he was able to tell his mentor was well endowed, but now that he was actually _seeing_ it mere inches away from his face he couldn’t help but be taken aback. He could not allow himself to be thrown off course, though. He hadn’t backed down from a challenge before, and he wasn’t planning on doing so now. 

Diving headfirst at the newly exposed flesh, he dragged his tongue around the shaft, drool dripping from his mouth with each hungry lap. Just enough to prepare his cock, make it all messy before he slid it down his throat; there was no need for foreplay here, this wasn’t some sort of tender lovemaking. His only intent here was to make a mess of the man who was a constant thorn in his side, just like he’d fantasized about many lonely nights in this sterile domain. Being able to feel each throb and pulse from the veins on his tongue, feeling the muscle stiffen under his touch… it was a truly visceral pleasure he hadn’t felt in quite some time, and it only made his own aching cock throb with incessant need. 

Satisfied with the glistening coat of saliva he’d left on the flesh, he curled his lips around the head, letting his jaw grow slack. His eyes gazed up at Mihawk, trying to gauge his progress, see if he’d earn even a slight reaction from that ever stoic mentor of his. He only saw that same pair of jarring eyes staring down at him, that same apathetic expression. It only made the thought of making him lose that deadpan demeanor of his all the more enticing, really.

Inch after inch, he took more and more of his cock, the sheer girth of it stretching his jaw impossibly wide. Mihawk took in the sight of an all too eager mouth swallowing him up, guiding his hand to the back of the boy’s head to push him down even more. Though Zoro felt tears prick in the corner of his eyes as the head prodded at the back of his throat, he had to endure it, lest he show signs of weakness. Suppressing his gag reflex as best as he could, he slid his head down the rest of the way, throat stuffed impossibly full and face once again pressed up against the man’s abdomen. 

He stayed like this for a while, getting himself accustomed to the feeling, eyes in a haze as he groaned around a throatful of cock. Slowly but surely, he pulled himself up, dizzy at the feeling of it sliding out his throat. His mouth was still wrapped around the tip, tongue rolling itself across it before sucking the shaft back down again. A few more bobs of his head and he gained a steady rhythm, practically fucking his own throat over and over again at an absurd pace. Mihawk gave him a curious look, watched in amusement as the boy groaned hungrily around him, drool dripping down his chin. 

Truth be told, though, Zoro wasn’t getting very far with this-- rather, he was acting far too desperate, much too impatient. Perhaps this odd technique of his had worked on his previous partners, but it wouldn’t for him. Two hands gripped at the back of Zoro’s head to halt his progress, and he had a rather bewildered look about him as a result.

“That’s enough,” Mihawk ordered. “Your approach here is much like your approach in battle: staggered and belligerent.” Zoro snarled in protest, as his head was pulled up and his mouth was once again on the tip of his mentor’s manhood. 

“Let’s try this again,” he instructed, his grip on Zoro’s head growing slack. “Take it in slowly, and suck in your cheeks.”

Zoro glared at him in frustration, but did as he was told, sucking little by little into his mouth slowly. A hand stopped him again once he’d gotten himself halfway down.

“Good,” his mentor praised. “Use your tongue more, move it around underneath.” Zoro obeyed reluctantly, swirling his tongue along the underside, feeling the soft skin beneath while still sucking around the girth. Mihawk’s grip on his head tightened again, giving him no warning before shoving his head down all the way, making him gag and heave around his cock, face grinding against his pelvis.

“Swallow around it,” he commanded. Zoro felt overwhelmed at the thought, but obliged, tightening his throat around the shaft, an audible gulp reverberating through his neck. A hand ruffled his hair in response, no doubt out of approval, though Zoro saw it as patronizing.

“Good, good,” Mihawk murmured, tone bordering on condescending. “You’re a quick learner, Roronoa.” Zoro again growled in discontent-- though this particular gesture of complaint most likely only felt more pleasurable to his foe, given his... current position. Two hands tugged his head back to its starting place, before relaxing their grip again; a sign that he was to continue on his own. Zoro nodded, or tried to, sucking down his cock again while doing his best to follow what he’d been told. His cheeks hollowed themselves as much as possible, tongue wagging desperately around as he picked up his pacing.

He once again fell into a rhythm, sucking himself down to the hilt repeatedly, occasionally lingering there to swallow around the thick shaft before bobbing his head back up again. Though Mihawk still bore that unenthused look about him, Zoro could feel his fingers rubbing appreciatively against his scalp, a promising sign in and of itself. His own need was growing painful in the confines of his pants, desperately aching for a pleasure he would not grant himself, at least not for the time being. He glared up at his mentor, a gung ho glimmer in his eyes, as if to state he would be victorious, he’d ruin this foe of his.

But Mihawk was not enthused by that cocky attitude, and with fingers tightening in his hair once again, Zoro suddenly found himself being forced up and down his mentor’s cock, throat being fucked as if it were merely a cocksleeve. Drool and precum dribbled down his face incessantly, no doubt making him look like a sloppy mess. Though he could barely withstand the treatment, he would endure it, wanting to make the man cum, claim his victory over him. Just as he felt he was getting close to doing so, his mouth was forcibly pried off the other man by hands pulling at his hair, the tip of it sliding from his lips with a loud, wet pop. Thoroughly frustrated, he gave Mihawk a disappointed scowl, which the other man only found amusement in.

“Are you really so desperate for me, Roronoa?” he taunted. “Where’d that incessant arrogance of yours go?”

“Shut up…” Zoro scowled. “You only stopped because I was about to make you cum.”

Mihawk was verging on rolling his eyes at this remark. “You’re still treating this as a competition,” he said dully. “I doubt you came into this only concerned about satisfying my own desires…” Taking a leg up, he nudged the throbbing flesh underneath Zoro’s pants with his foot, making his breath hitch at the feeling. “...especially if this is any indication.” 

Zoro bore his teeth in response, though whatever intimidating effect that look would have was negated by a gentle nudging of his hips against the man’s touch. “Bastard… Whatever it is you’re planning on doing, just get it over with.”

“You’ll lose that boastful tone soon enough, Roronoa,” Mihawk warned. 

Taking his hands off the boy’s head, his fingers swiftly popped the buttons on his dress shirt open, one by one. He let the sleeves slide down his shoulders before shrugging off the fabric entirely, Zoro taking in the sight of pale skin and supple muscle with an odd admiration. Perhaps because he looked so untouched, so unscaved by a life that was no doubt spent fighting countless battles… a true testament to his strength, really. He didn’t dwell on this thought for long, though, as he should probably be undressing himself as well. He lifted up the well worn fabric of his shirt up above his head, careful not to mess up the bandaging around his waist, then cast it to the side. Right as he moved his hands down to his pants, thumbs already hooked on the waistband, a hand on his cheek stopped him.

“Let me,” Mihawk instructed. Though Zoro was confused by this request, he nodded, moving his hands away. A set of fingers that was not his own caressed themselves down his bare chest, involuntary trembles being sent down his spine at the feeling. A single hand still lingered there, while another trailed its way to his bandaged waist, palm pressing firmly against his abdomen.

“Does it hurt?” Mihawk asked. Zoro was uncertain if it was genuine concern or merely a passing thought. 

“No,” he answered, a truthful response. 

“Good.” Both hands found themselves wrapping their fingers around Zoro’s waist, slipping themselves into the fabric of his pants before swiftly pulling them down to his ankles. Now that he found himself fully exposed, the younger swordsman couldn’t help but feel a bit... vulnerable. 

A singular finger trailed itself down the length of his now exposed cock, making it twitch and jump underneath the touch. Zoro’s breathing staggered in his throat, biting his lip to stifle back a whimper. He felt… sensitive, far more than usual, but he was rather ashamed to admit it. He was close to losing his grip entirely once slender fingers wrapped themselves around his shaft, lingering there a bit before stroking him gently. His hands tightened into fists, muscles tensing tightly as he felt himself throbbing desperately inside the man’s hand. Breath staggered by sharp inhales, his lip being bit hard enough to almost draw blood, he forced himself not to give in, not to do what he really wanted to. He craved this touch, wanting desperately to let himself be taken by it. But this was a test, a taunt to his desires. A test he couldn’t let himself lose.

Unsatisfied with the response he was getting, Mihawk forced his hand down harder, gripped the boy’s cock tighter. A needy whimper just barely escaped Zoro’s throat, before it was forced into a low, guttural grunt. He couldn’t let this happen, he couldn’t let himself keep being touched like this lest he break completely. A firm hand seized his mentor’s wrist with a vice-like grip, only to be ignored entirely as he kept jerking him off. Fighting back the urge to let himself become undone was getting harder and harder, mind filled with the need to release, make a mess of the hand wrapped around him. 

A particular hard stroke made that cord of tension in his mind snap, head thrown back and ragged groans escaping from his lips. That internal dialogue of his was drowned out by waves of intoxicating ecstasy, whatever grip he had on his mind slipping away as he rolled his hips into the touch with reckless abandon. Though that nagging sense of defeat still tugged at him, ridiculing him for falling to his desires so quickly, he was far too blinded by that very lust to care. 

Just as he found himself nearing that precipice, that cord snapped back like a rubber band, head rolling back into place as he came back to his senses. He was about to reach his breaking point, lose himself entirely, and he wouldn’t allow that to happen. Another hand snatched itself forcefully around Mihawk’s wrist, forcing himself free from the man’s grip. Mihawk bore a tired expression to his face, staring back down at the younger swordsman, who was crouched on the floor with a wild look to his eyes and a body heaving with each agitated breath.

“You keep fighting against yourself,” he blandly remarked. “Your wants, your desires… your self importance won’t allow them. Why so?”

Zoro did not respond. Rather, he couldn’t respond, the words escaped him entirely. 

“Do you find them shameful?” he continued. Zoro knew the answer to that question all too well. He just couldn’t bring himself to say it. That silence alone was a suitable enough answer for Mihawk, though: it confirmed the boy’s apprehensions.

“There is nothing dishonorable in admitting one’s desires,” he explained. “In the same vein, there is nothing honorable in denying oneself of them, once they are long since apparent. It demonstrates not resolve, but indecision.” 

Zoro did not know how to take his mentor’s words. Were they sincere advice, or merely another trial he was being put through? Was this meant to be a lesson learned? Or was he merely being toyed with, much like a dying vole let to scurry away from a wildcat only to be caught in its grasp over and over again? Nothing was certain anymore, much less so with the haze of lust still clouding his mind. 

“Come,” Mihawk instructed, patting the mattress next to him with his hand. Uncertainty still gnawing away at his thoughts, Zoro picked himself off the ground, approaching him reluctantly

“Put your head here,” he directed. Zoro gave a shallow nod, heart pounding with anticipation at what he knew was about to happen. He positioned himself on the bed, chest laid on the mattress, arms at his side, legs hanging off the edge. He made sure his still injured waist was elevated, not wanting to put pressure on it. This particular pose made him feel especially exposed, as if the other man was staring him down like a piece of meat. Most likely, that was Mihawk’s exact intention. 

Mihawk lifted himself up from the mattress, Zoro craning his head back at him. When those haunting eyes staring back, however, he realized that much like a needle being put in one’s arm, perhaps he was better off not seeing what was happening. He placed his head back down, face smothered by the fabric of bedsheets, heart still palpitating with that anxious yet excited feeling. Part of him wanted to crawl away, run off and forget this ever happened. A much deeper part of him was tired, tired of fighting, and realized it was better for both of them to just accept this despite his sullied pride. He’d wanted this for quite some time, they both knew that. Why couldn’t he just let it happen?

Zoro felt the pair of pants still wrapped around his ankles be pulled off completely, followed by his ears picking up what sounded like a bottle being popped open-- most likely some sort of lube. The fact that Mihawk had come into this fully prepared… it wasn’t exactly a comforting thought. What was even less comforting was the feeling of cold, lube coated fingers that were now pressing against his entrance. It was an all too familiar feeling, but a feeling he hadn’t felt in some time… and it was all too indicative of what exactly he’d gotten himself into.

Slowly but surely, two digits wriggled themselves inward, Zoro’s body growing rigid at the feeling. He could feel them pushing in to the knuckle, hear the lewd squelching sound of them scissoring him open, clearly seeking to stretch him out and nothing more. His eyes slowly closed shut, only wanting to focus on how _good_ this felt, how long it’d been since he’d been worked open like this. He had not fully submitted himself to his desires just yet, but he was no longer trying to fight against them; in this, he found an odd comfort.

His legs quivered as he felt this intrusion press deeper inside, lightly brushing against a bundle of nerves that sent globs of precum dribbling from his painfully erect cock. He rocked his hips back into the other man’s touch, a satisfied grunt escaping his throat as he was stretched ridiculously wider in response. That sensation did not last long, though-- merely a tease before both fingers were pulled out entirely. He was somewhat disappointed at their absence, though that feeling dissipated once he felt a hot, slick length rubbing against his ass. His stomach coiled with anticipation, taking a deep breath as he felt the head prodding against his loosened hole, bracing himself for what it would feel like inside him.

But, “Beg for it,” Mihawk ordered him. Incredibly bewildered, Zoro turned back at him in confusion.

“Huh?!” 

“You’re still apprehensive,” he elaborated, “still trying to hold back. Admit to yourself what you want, what you crave.” 

_This had to be a fucking joke._ There was no way Zoro would ever do something so humiliating, demonstrate such defeat. The very thought of it made him feel viscerally ill. Just being told to do it had him feeling uneasy. Still...

“You’ve come this far already, Roronoa,” Mihawk declared, echoing Zoro’s thoughts exactly. “It is far more honorable to admit defeat, than it is to keep stubbornly pushing ahead. If you continue to let your ego get in the way, you’ll only be humbled each time.”

Yet again, Zoro was left silent, left to process this rather hard pill to swallow. Perhaps, his mentor had a point. Perhaps, there was a lesson to be learned here. Perhaps, he’d already gone past the point of no return. 

Might as well enjoy the ride. 

“...Please,” he muttered, practically forcing himself to get the word out. Truth be told, he still couldn’t fathom the thought of actually _begging_ for someone. He hoped maybe this would be enough.

“Try again,” Mihawk chided. As expected, it wasn’t.

“P-please,” he repeated, stumbling over himself. “I… I want this.”

“What is it you want, exactly? Tell me.”

Zoro grimaced at this demand. Did he _really_ have to say it out loud? Hadn’t his ego been humbled enough?

“I… I want you to fuck me,” he pleaded, cringing as the words left his mouth. “Please.” 

Seemingly satisfied by his answer, Mihawk placed two hands on his hips, fingertips gripping hard enough to bruise as he pushed his way into a slick, waiting hole. Zoro let out a broken wail as the man’s cock stretched him impossibly open, legs twitching and toes curled once it was fully inside. It’d been so long, far too long since he last felt this raw sensation of someone inside him, let alone someone who was so fucking _huge._ He could feel every inch of it pulsating inside him, the tip pressed up against his prostate and making him feel dizzy. If he hadn’t already reached the point of no return, he was certainly there now. Whatever shreds of his resolve he was still holding onto, he let go of, surrendered himself entirely to that most alluring sin of lust. 

“Break me,” he begged. A vocal declaration that he was relinquishing his control, leaving himself entirely in the other man’s hands. 

The swordsmaster grinned in reply, though Zoro could not see him doing so. “You’ve already been broken.”

Before Zoro could really dwell on those words, Mihawk was thrusting into him with slow, deep strokes, making his mind go blank with sheer ecstasy. Needy whimpers poured from his lips incessantly, muffled by the bed sheets his hands were clawing at aimlessly. With each thrust, the man’s cock was hitting that bundle of nerves that made him see stars, every inch of his body trembling each time it did. He couldn’t think straight, he didn’t _want_ to think straight, didn’t want to find reason. None of this made sense anyways: it hadn’t made sense when he first felt this desire towards his greatest rival, and it didn’t make sense that those desires were being fulfilled. Why try to find reason when reason wasn’t needed here? 

A hand was removed from his hips, pushing his head down as he was pounded into even harder, skin slapping against skin, a relentless assault on his senses. He felt like his very psyche was being shattered with each thrust, overpowered by this opponent of his physically and mentally, focusing on him and only him. He’d lost control of himself entirely, a shell of who he once was. What were once growls of resistance had turned into lecherous, depraved moans. What was once an arrogant scowl was turned into a feverish, drooling mess. He’d lost himself entirely, and whether or not he’d even be able to come back down was still uncertain.

A particularly rough thrust sent Zoro over the edge, crying out in sheer euphoria as he came harder than he ever had before. Mihawk stilled himself, pulling out and allowing the boy to ride out his orgasm on his own. His entire body spasmed with each thick load he shot out, completely coating the floor beneath him with his seed before going completely limp on the mattress. His mind was sloshed in a post orgasmic high, babbling incoherently into the bedsheets. He’d never, _ever_ felt anything like this before in his previous escapades, never felt so completely inundated underneath someone.

Without even a second to recollect himself, he was being pounded into again, wailing in protest as that far too overstimulated spot was slammed into over and over. A hand wrapped itself around his spent cock, fondling the sensitive skin and making him feel a mix of pain and pleasure. Tears were pricking up in his eyes, feeling sheerly overwhelmed, knowing if this didn’t stop soon he’d break down completely. What little remained of his logical mind felt nothing but shame at that thought; a state of complete and utter humiliation, unlike anything he’d shown to this foe of his before.

“P-please,” he pleaded, voice wavering as heavy tears beaded in his eyes. “Please st- Hnnnn!” his begging fell on deaf ears as he was shoved into the mattress even further, tears streaming down his face as he sobbed in pure humility. Unbeknownst to him, Mihawk was satisfying dark desires of his own: it’d been far too long since he’d been able to shatter someone’s spirit in such a way, much less someone so stubbornly cocky as this young opponent. He drank in the sound of his dejected wails, the way his body was absolutely _trembling_ underneath him. This arrogant boy, who’d stumbled into his domain like a lost little mouse, was becoming fully undone under him; in this, he gained a sick sort of pleasure, a satisfaction to a deep-rooted hunger that was seldom satiated. 

Just as soon as Zoro grew fully hard again, he was sent into another overpowering orgasm, a gut wrenching squeal escaping him as he came. His entire body writhed, arms clawing themselves into the bedsheets, desperately trying to crawl away only to be dragged right back down. A few more thrusts and Mihawk again stilled himself, letting out a satisfied hum. Zoro could feel his insides becoming slick and warm with his seed, his cock pulsing inside him with each load. His knees collapsed once the other man pulled out, body sliding loosely off the mattress as an absurd amount of cum poured out from inside him. His mind was completely blank, feeling as if he were blacking out. If Mihawk said something to him, he didn’t hear it or even process it, and by the time he turned his head back to him he was already long gone. 

As he slowly came back to reality, the utter realization of what had just occurred came crashing down on him, making him feel sickeningly undignified. He was uncertain if he could ever come back from this loss, if he would ever be able to look at this nemesis the same way again. He had been forced into a position of subduement and humility like none other, all because he could not control his desires.

Still… it had felt _good,_ undeniably so. Perhaps, he could get used to this feeling of defeat.

**Author's Note:**

> well... that's the end of that.
> 
> i might write a second part with some bondage/knifeplay elements, so feel free to let me know in the comments if that's something you'd be interested in. ^_^


End file.
